Nightingale
by xoShane22ox
Summary: Begins after Maeve's death. Spencer begins to have some cravings for Dilauded and goes to an NA meeting. There he meets twin sisters Kairhyn and Kairah. The sisters find themselves in the middle of one of the BAU's cases. (The love story Spencer deserves.) Some cannon occurrences, some noncannon occurrences.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of the characters related to the series.

This follows Reid after Maeve's death. Some things will be cannon, others will not. (I picture Spencer like the end of season 8 Spencer and then the beginning of season 9 Spencer.) Many of the statistics that Spencer quotes in this story are fake. I made them up because if I had actually taken the time to research them all, you would have no story. Call it lazy if you wish. Some of the statistics are actually accurate, though.

○■●□ _**Nightingale**_

"Good evening, everyone. Thank you all for being here. Members, thank you for sticking it out and making it this far. Family, thank you for coming and supporting our members. Without your support, many of us would not make it. Yes, I say us. Some may not know how these programs work, but I, too, was an addict. I've been clean for over 15 years. I assure you, it is a long and hard road. I would not have made it this far without my family. This is our first family meeting. We will be opening up the rest of the meetings to family participation as well, so feel free to come to as many meetings as you'd like. We will now go around the room and share our names, drug, or drugs, of choice, and the name of the family member here with us today. I will begin. My name is John Harley. My choice drug was liquid heroin, or a type of GHB. With me today is my sister Sarah."

"Hi, John," the group collectively says.

I feel like I'm at a cult meeting.

"My name is Isobel Rodriguez. My drug was paint thinner. With me today is my husband, Edgar."

"Hi, Isobel."

Seriously, a cult meeting.

"My name is Spencer. I injected dilauded," a tall, skinny guy says that looks like he's too young to know what a drug is, let alone inject an opioid.

He's sitting alone, and he looks very uneasy. His dark eyes dart back and forth amongst us, but his glance lingers on me for slightly longer than everyone else.

"Is there no one here with you today, Spencer?" John asks.

"No," he says quickly. "I don't... there wasn't...my mom is...she's sick and I don't have any other family."

"Hi, Spencer," everyone says after a long lull.

The rest of the members introduce themselves, we greet them like a new convert in our satanic cult, and then all eyes are on us.

"I'm Kairah," my mirror image gives a small smile. "My drug was cocaine," she says with a confidence I've never heard before. "With me today is my twin sister, Kairhyn."

I smile at everyone, but I see that guy, Spencer, staring at me with an indescribable look in his eyes. He smiles back nervously and runs a hand through his long, curly hair. He actually is a little cute.

"We're going to do something a little different tonight," John says. "Instead of our members telling their story, I would like for our family members to tell the story from their point of view. Who would like to begin?"

There is a long, almost uncomfortable silence in the room.

"I will," I say quietly.

Every eye stares at me. Maybe this was a bad idea.

"Kairah started using our senior year of high school," I begin slowly. "We went to a party and there were all kinds of drugs and alcohol there. I was on the cheerleading squad, and we had random drug tests at school for athletes, so I stayed as far away from it all as I could. Despite our many similarities," I pause and smile at my sister, "Kairah hates any kind of sport, cheerleading especially. Her boyfriend at the time convinced her to have a couple drinks. A couple turned into too many to count. I tried to take her home," I have to pause to gather my wits.

My throat feels like it's closing and I can feel the tears gathering in my eyes.

"I told her that I hated her, that I couldn't stand being related to her and that I never wanted to speak to her again. She tried to reason with me, but I was far too drunk, and I slapped her in the face in front of everyone that was there," Kairah finishes for me.

"I went home after that, told our parents that she was staying the night with some friends. Soon after I left, her boyfriend convinced her to do a line. He told her that it wouldn't hurt her and no one would have to know. She almost didn't graduate high school. She was addicted for 5 years before I convinced her to get help."

"And how did you do that?" John asks.

"Um," the words get lost. "She missed the funeral for our parents and brother," I finally choke out. "I began taking care of our niece. I told her how hard it was to do it all by myself and how hard it was to stand alone at the funeral. A week later she went to rehab. She's been out for a while now, and has been clean for almost a year."

"I'm very sorry for your loss," John says. "May I ask how your parents and brother passed?"

"My brother was living in Montana at the time. His girlfriend left him after our niece was born and severed all of her parental rights. My parents went out to help him move back. They were killed on the interstate when a truck slammed into them. The driver had been using LSD. Emma is the only one that survived."

"Forgive me, Kairah," John says. "But that story sounds very different from the one you first told us."

"I was ashamed," she nodded. "I didn't want to admit, even to myself, that an addict killed my family, or that any of it was true, actually."

"I understand," John nods.

The rest of the members of the group assist their family members in telling their stories. Most of them started using because they were running away from themselves, at least that's what they say. It feels like years have gone by when we finally get to the last member to tell their story: Spencer.

"Spencer, would you like to share your story today?" John asks. "You never have shared with us before."

"Well," he pauses. "Did you know that 40 to 60 percent of drug users relapse, and of that 40 to 60 percent, 50 percent are those who attended NA meetings regularly and shared their story weekly. The constant repitition of their story triggers remorse for their actions, but for many it can restore the cravings that they thought they had overcome. 35 percent of these individuals relapse after only a year of being clean. There is a good chance that some of these individuals were psychopaths. German psychologist Alfred Adler theorized that..."

He hasn't taken a breath since he started talking.

"What are you, an encyclopedia?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

He immediately stops and looks at me sheepishly, his teeth resting on his pouty lower lip.

"No," he says finally. "I have a Bachelor's in psychology," he stutters. "And sociology. As well as Doctorate's in mathematics, engineering, and chemistry."

"How old are you?" I blurt out again, unable to contain my disbelief.

"32," he says shyly.

"What, did you graduate high school when you were 12?" I scoff.

"Actually, yes," he nods.

The whole room stays quiet as he and I stare at each other.

"How about we take a short break for refreshments?" John finally breaks the silence.

Spencer immediately gets up and leaves the room.

"Kairhyn," Kairah smacks my arm. "That was so mean."

"I didn't mean to," I explain. "It kind of just came out."

"That whole conversation just happened before you could stop it?" she raises an eyebrow.

"Yes," I roll my eyes. "Well, not entirely, I guess."

"When he comes back in here, you apologize," she whispers as people move around us to get drinks.

A mere minute passes by and she smacks me again.

"What did I do now?" I wince.

"He's back," she points to the refreshments where he's getting a bottled water.

"Kairah," I whine. "Later, okay?"

"No, now," she shakes her head. "He's standing over there by himself."

I sigh and prepare to rid myself of all of my dignity.

"Hi," I say coming up behind him.

"Hi," he says, clearly startled by my presence.

"Um, earlier," I stutter, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. Sometimes my mouth opens and words come out before they've received the approval of my brain and..."

"That's actually impossible," he comments.

"I just mean..." I say, flustered.

"I know," he actually smiles. "It's okay. I'm kind of used to it."

"So, what, do you have an IQ of like 1 billion or something? I smile back.

"187," he says quickly.

"Wow," I blink a few times. "So how could someone as intelligent as you are get addicted to Dilauded?"

"Well," he begins, but hesitates.

"I'm sorry," I shake my head. "That was rude. Anyone can get addicted, and your story is your business."

"You're kind of right," he shrugs. "It was stupid."

"It looks like they're almost ready to start, so I guess we should, uh," I gesture towards the rest of the group.

"Yeah," he nods. "It was nice talking to you."

He extends his hand and I take it. I expect his grip to be overly firm like every other man's, they always overcompensate, but instead he's gentle. His long fingers extend well past my wrist, but before I can relish his touch for too long, he retracts his hand and joins the group again.

"What was that?" Kairah whispers to me when I sit down beside her again.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I whisper back, but when I look up, my eyes meet his.

"He's kinda cute," she comments as he smiles awkwardly at me.

The meeting finally ends and we all get up to leave. Before my eyes can find his again, he's gone.

"You should come back next week," Kairah comments as we walk to the car. "Ya know, so you can stare each other down again."

"Whatever," I roll my eyes and pull out of the parking lot.

That night, my dreams consist of him. No matter how hard I try, I can't make it stop. As soon as I close my eyes, I see his hazel ones staring back at me, his pouty lower lip, chapped from his nervous habit of licking and biting his lip, his long fingers on my hips. I decide that if I see him again, maybe that will make these dreams, which get more detailed as the week goes on, go away.

I go with Kairah to the next meeting and make sure we get there early so that I have plenty of time to look at him and maybe talk to him before the meeting starts. But five minutes into the meeting, he's still not here. I know that he's not coming.

"I bet he didn't come back because of how mean and rough you were last week," Kairah whispers.

"That's not true!" I whisper back roughly.

As hard as I have tried to hide my thoughts and dreams, there is no fooling my sister.

"Maybe he's just running really, really late?" She offers.

It is for this reason that I find myself casting wistful glances to the doorway every few moments as the meeting continues. If anyone has been speaking to me, I wouldn't know; Spencer consumes my thoughts.

The following week, I go to the meeting again. I need to see him. I linger outside for a few minutes before the meeting, hoping that I can catch him outside. I go inside with no luck. Just as I did last week, my eyes shift towards the door every few seconds. He doesn't show.

"You really did scare him off," Kairah whispers as Isobel talks about her struggle with her husband painting the house.

"Maybe he's just busy," I scoff, silently peeved that she noticed my wistful glances.

Wistful glances? Am I writing a ridiculous Nicholas Sparks novel now? But unfortunately, that's exactly what they were: wistful glances. I tried to focus on the trials and tribulations that the members confess to the group, but I can't help but wonder what happened to make a genius start using drugs. Maybe he's a psychopath? He mentioned something about psychopaths when he was dodging the questioning from John. Or maybe it's the fact that his brain is too large for his skull so it causes some horrible pain that he's trying to escape. That has to be it. Definitely.

Finally, the meeting ends and Kairah and I head to the diner that we have begun to frequent after the meetings the past few weeks. The coffee is awful and the burgers are worse, but the pie is to die for. We take our usual seat, and since the food is subpar and hardly anyone comes to this place, the waitress puts in the order for our usual. In a shorter time than it should take for our food to cook, our dinners are sitting in front of us.

"So, you think you're gonna keep dreaming about him?" Kairah asks as she takes a bite out of her charred chicken strips.

"Dreaming about who?" I feign innocence.

"Mr. Mysterious," she bats her eyelashes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I roll my eyes.

"Oh come on," she says, "he's cute."

"You do not think he's cute."

"I do," she insists. "He has really nice eyes, and that pouty lip thing is totally bad boy-esque, and the hair..."

"What about his hair?" I interrupt.

"It's so Heath Ledger."

"Then why don't you date him?" I blurt.

"Not my type," she brushes it off.

"You just gave me every reason why I should date him."

"Any guy that my sister is into is not my type."

"That is not true," I counter.

"Name one!' Her mouth falls open.

"Matthew Williams, Jackson Hall, Christopher Woods..."

"Okay, okay, point taken," she folds her arms.

"I win," I smile and throw my undercooked french fry at her.

That night, and every other night, I dream of meeting Spencer again. I've barely spoken to him, yet my dreams could make Christian Gray blush. I'm almost ashamed of myself. Almost.

For the duration of the next week, I try not to let my thoughts of Spencer interfere with my daily tasks, especially taking care of Emma, but no matter how hard I try, I find myself dreaming of him while she sits at the table fingerpainting. As a matter of fact, I'm completely oblivious when she gets up and starts running her hands up and down the walls. Blue, red, and purple hand prints are the new wallpaper in the kitchen.

Finally, it's time for the next meeting. I go with Kairah and we arrive right before the meeting is supposed to start. We slide into our seats right as John begins his welcoming speech. The first thing that I noticed when I walked in is that Spencer is not here. I kind of gave up hope that he would come back. It's been weeks since he's come to a meeting, so I doubt that he's coming back. His absence this week solidifies that belief for me, so for the first time since family night, I actually listen as John recounts his journey. He is just about to ask which member would like to begin sharing when the door swings open. I turn my head and come eye to hazel eye.

"Spencer, good to see you," John smiles. "I was worried we'd lost you."

"No," he stumbles as he sits down. "I've been working. Sorry I'm late, I got held up at work again."

"Not a problem," John smiles again, "just glad to have you back."

The meeting goes on like usual, everyone expresses their thoughts and feelings, Kairah shares that she's had a hard week filled with plenty of urges. I feel bad that I haven't even noticed that she's been struggling, I've been too preoccupied with the man that I catch stating at me every time I look up.

"Spencer," John says as if reading my thoughts. "I know how you feel about sharing, but could you tell us how long you've been clean at least?"

"Um," he hesitates. "Almost 7 years."

"Wow," John says quietly while nodding his head. "Everyone, let's give it up for Spencer."

Everyone begins clapping and it occurs to me yet again that I feel like I'm in a cult meeting.

"So what brings you back, Spencer?" John asks.

"I uh," Spencer pauses, "I've had some urges lately."

"What do you think the cause of these urges are?" John asks.

"Did you know that 30% of all the addicts that relapse do so because they are trying to help someone else recover? Aristotle said, 'Friendship is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.' When a person is..."

"Is that why you've had the urges?" I interrupt. "Because you've been trying to help a friend recover?"

"No," he shakes his head simply.

The rest of us sit there quietly trying to understand what just happened. After a few moments, John calls the meeting to a close.

"I'm starving!" Kairah whines as she grabs her coat.

"Ready for some burnt chicken?" I laugh as I sling my purse over my shoulder.

"You should invite him," she says and I follow her gaze to Spencer.

"He probably has plans or has to work and he probably wouldn't want the crappy food," I say too quickly.

"He just got off work, the pie is worth it, and you will have no idea if he has plans if you don't get your butt over there and ask him before he leaves, which he is about to do."

I sigh and she shoves me in his direction. I catch my footing and walk over to him casually.

"Hi," I say stupidly.

Stupidly because I haven't seen him in weeks, and every time I speak to him I'm either insulting him or interrupting him.

"Hi," he says back sounding surprised.

"Are you hungry?" I ask suddenly.

What a way to begin asking someone to come have dinner with you.

"Kind of," he shrugs.

He seems unphased by my idiocy, but he doesn't say anything else.

"Would you like to come with me and my sister to this diner that we go to after the meetings? I mean, the food totally sucks, but they have this really great apple pie that has a ton of cinnamon on top and whipped cream and the apples aren't too soggy but they aren't too crispy," all of the words seem to blurt out at once like they're competing to see which one can make me sound like the biggest loser.

"Um," he pauses for what seems like an eternity. "Yeah, okay, I haven't eaten dinner yet."

I think he is legitimately oblivious to my rambling and to the fact that I'm not actually interested in whether or not he has eaten. I mean, I don't want him to go hungry, but this particular occasion isn't actually about the food.

"Okay, great," I manage to squeak. "It's just across the street, so Kairah and I usually walk."

"I'll just follow," he nods, grabbing his messenger bag and following me as I walk back over to Kairah, a nervous and fake smile plastered on my face.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh shoot," Kairah snaps her fingers right as we come to the door of the diner. "I forgot, I have a paper due tomorrow."

"Oh really?" I narrow my eyes at her. "What class?"

"Ethics."

"What's the topic?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Stem cells," she stutters.

"In 1968, two siblings were given bone marrow transplants to treat their severe combined immunodeficiency, but stem cells weren't discovered in human cord blood until 1978. The Wisconsin Alumni Research Foundation owns three patents covering human embryonic stem cells, which were invented by James A. Thomson," Spencer rambles.

"Wow," Kairah blinks. "Maybe I'll include that in my paper."

"And what class was this for again?" I ask.

"Ethics," Spencer answers when Kairah hesitates. "Good luck."

"Thanks," she says quickly. "See you later, Kairhyn. I'll pick Emma up for you, ya know, so you don't have to rush home."

By this point I have killed her in my head three times.

"Thanks, Kai," I give her a fake smile. "I'll see you at home."

She takes my statement as the threat that it was meant to be and runs down the sidewalk.

"So, are you ready for some really bad food?" I smile as I turn my attention back to Spencer after mentally killing Kairah for the fourth time.

"I'm sure it's not that bad," he shrugs as he opens the door for me.

I lead him to the booth that Kairah and I always sit in and within seconds the usual waitress is standing beside us.

"Where's your sister?" The waitress, Amanda, asks.

"Oh she had to go home and change her profile name online to LeavesPeopleHanging," I imperceptibly nod towards Spencer.

"I thought she was writing a paper on stem cell research?" Spencer looks genuinely confused.

"Yeah," I stifle a laugh, "that's what I meant."

"You want your usual?" Amanda grins.

"I do," I smile, "but can you do me a huge favor and instead of the iced tea give me the largest cup of cofree that has ever been attempted? You can give me the whole pot, for all I care, just give me a straw and I'm good."

"Actually, the largest cup of coffee on record contained 14,228.1 liters," Spencer said.

"The largest quantity that you can manage to give me."

"Sure thing," Amanda grins again. "And for you?"

"He will have," I interrupt before he can speak, "both of the usuals with the largest piece of apple pie that you can manage."

"Should I just bring the whole pie?" Amanda jokes.

"Can you do that?" I ask seriously.

"Really?" She sighs.

"I am in need and pie is my whore."

"So.." she stares at me.

"I will pay a lot of money to have my way with her."

"Um.." she looks uncomfortable now.

"Bring the whole pie, Amanda."

"Have you ever considered getting some help?"

"I have, Amanda. But it would ruin the fun," I joke.

Amanda leaves to place our order and Spencer just stares at me.

"Pie is your whore?" He questions. "Pie is actually..."

"Don't overanalyze it," I interrupt laughing. "It was a joke."

"Right," he nods.

"So, what do you do for fun?" I ask him.

"Sometimes I guest lecture in college courses, but when I'm not working or doing that I usually read or play chess."

"So you don't spend your free time scowering the Internet for random fact compilations?" I smile.

"No," he answers looking confused.

"I just wondered because you seem to know so many of them."

"I have an eidetic memory," he says simply.

"Of course you do," I nod my head. "So where are you from?"

"Las Vegas," he answers to the point again.

"And you graduated high school when you were twelve. Where could someone as smart as you go to college? Yale?"

"CalTech. Yale was my fall-back school," he says before taking a sip of the iced tea that Amanda brought. "Oh wow."

"Not a fan of the iced tea?" I laugh at his scrunched face.

"I can't say that I am."

I have Amanda bring him some coffee and then watch as he pours half the sugar container into it.

"Would you like some coffee with your sugar?" I tease.

"I have coffee?" He questions.

"You have a lot of sugar in it is what I mean," I smile.

"Oh, yeah," he shrugs.

"You're not much of a talker, huh?" I observe.

"I talk."

"You talk when you're giving a fun fact or answering a question. Other than that, you don't really speak."

"Well," he hesitates.

"I'm sorry," I say quickly.

Just keep on insulting him, Kairhyn. That's great.

"I don't mean to be rude," I finish at a normal pace.

"When were you being rude?" He tilts his head.

"You don't get offended when people interrupt you or say things that they shouldn't say?"

"Why should I?" He shrugs. "Everyone is different."

Luckily Amanda brings us our food before I have to think of a response to that. It shouldn't have taken me so long to put my finger on it, but now that I have, I know exactly what makes Spencer the way he is.

"This is a lot of food," his eyes widen as Amanda puts the plates in front of him. "What makes you think I can eat all of this?"

"You could use some more meat on your bones," I say as I reach over and poke his thin wrist.

"My mom says it's all the coffee I drink," he smiles widely.

"Moms are usually right," I nod my head. "Mine always was."

"I'm sorry," he frowns.

"Oh, it's okay," I wave my hand to brush off the statement. "C'est la vie."

"That doesn't make it suck any less."

The sound of his ringing phone interrupts the conversation.

"Yeah?" He says answering quickly. "Now? Alright, I'll be there in 20 minutes."

"Work?" I force a smile.

"I'm really sorry," he says pulling his wallet out of his pocket.

"It's okay," I assure him. "You don't have to..."

"I want to," he says and pulls out a fifty dollar bill.

"Sir, your change," Amanda calls after him as he heads toward the door.

"Keep it," he smiles.

"But the pie," I call after him this time.

"Next time, promise," he says and disappears out the door.

"I do believe," Amanda says still standing beside me, "that you've got yourself another date."

"He was just being polite," I sigh.

"Eat your pie before you lose your need," she nudges my shoulder. "I hear she's particularly easy tonight."

I eat a piece of pie that is really the size of two pieces. Despite the fact that she ditched me, I ask Amanda to give me a box so I can take the rest home to Kairah.

When I get there, she and Emma are sitting on the couch watching a movie.

"She should be in bed," I comment as I put the pie in the refrigerator.

"Oh, come on, live a little," Kairah says.

"Don't push it," I fold my arms over my chest. "I already H-A-T-E you."

"Mommy!" Emma exclaims as if she just noticed my presence.

When I adopted Emma, I had no intentions of her calling me Mommy. I planned for her to know who her parents were, but I wanted to wait until she was old enough to understand. In the meantime, I figured that I would Aunt Kairhyn just as Kairah is Aunt Kairah. While she was in rehab, though, it was just me and Emma at home and one day when I finished reading her a bedtime story, she said, "Goodnight, Mommy, I love you." She was two years old and I didn't have the heart to correct her.

"Hey little bit," I pick her up when she runs to me. "Did you have a good day with Auntie Lizzie?"

Elizabeth Perkins was my best friend in high school. She was one of the rare people to marry her high school sweetheart and actually have it last. So far, anyway, but I'm pretty sure they'll be together forever. She married Tyler just before we all went off to college. Tyler was in an accelerated program and by the time he was 20 had already finished his Bachelor's degree. Lizzie had just given birth to their first child, and was able to stay home with the baby since Tyler was working to support them. She decided about a year later that she wanted a little extra income, so she started watching a couple of other kids that belonged to people we knew in school. When I adopted Emma, she offered to watch her for me so that I could go back to school and work while Kairah was in rehab.

"We pay pay-doh," she beamed.

"You did!? That's awesome!"

"Yeah, tat's awesome," she repeated.

"Did Aunt Kairah let you stay up past your bedtime?"

"Yeah, we watch 'Laddin!"

Ever since the first time I let her watch Aladdin, she has insisted that Kairah and I are Princess Jasmine. Yes, both of us.

"I see that," I told her as I turned to look at the tv. "But it's time for you to go to sleep."

"I no finish 'Laddin?" She pouted.

"Let her finish," Kairah said.

"Fine," I sighed. "But as soon as it's over, it's bed time for you, missy."

There's at least 30 minutes left of the movie, if not more, so I go into the bathroom and take a shower. I keep replaying the night with Spencer in my head and I can't help but cringe at the awkwardness.

"Alright, little one," I say to Emma as I walk out of the bathroom. "Off to bed, to bed I said."

"Stoy time!" She squeals and runs to her room.

"Turn down the sheets, the sheets of red," I continue as I tuck her in. "We see in the night, in the night a sled. What's next?"

"Fom house to house, to house tey sped," she giggles.

"Merry Christmas boys and girls, Merry Christmas he said. On milk and cookies, on cookies I've fed. Off to the North Pole, to the North Pole I head. Merry Christmas boys and girls, Merry Christmas he said. Now, little one, it's time for bed."

I told her that story for the first time last Christmas. It was a story my mom used to tell Kairah and I every Christmas Eve. Emma fell in love with it and for months I have had to repeat it to her before bed. If I try to read her a different story, she cries and cries and refuses to sleep. I certainly do not allow her to misbehave, but what difference does it make if I have to repeat the same story every night if it makes her happy? I kiss her forehead, switch on her nightlight, and close the door.

"It's gonna be hard to wake her up tomorrow," I say to Kairah as I sit down at the kitchen table.

"She'll be fine," she rolls her eyes. "One night won't kill her."

"No, it won't," I concede. "But I am going to kill you."

"Ah, yes?" She grins. "How was your night with Spencer?"

"Awkward," I sigh. "Even more do because of your charade."

"He had no idea I was lying," she rolls her eyes again.

"No, but I did," I tell her as I get up and start to fix myself a cup of coffee. "I guess it doesn't matter though, he ended up leaving early."

"What? Why?" She frowns.

"Work. He got a call and had to rush off," I sit back down at the table.

"What does he even do that has him rushing off at strange hours all the time?"

"I don't know," I shrug, deciding to omit the credentials I think that I saw. "Maybe he's really married or something and his wife was wondering why he wasn't home."

"I seriously doubt that. Before you two had even met he said he had no one."

"Yeah, maybe, I don't know."

"Well, I'm off to bed. I'd like to make it to class tomorrow on time. You goin, too?"

"No," I grab a textbook. "I've got to do some reading. We're going over this chapter next week and if I don't start now, I'll never finish in time."

"Don't be up too late," she frowns. "You look like you could use some rest."

"Which is Kairah-code for I look like sh.."

"Ah ah ah," she interrupts. "Not with Em in the house, remember?"

"I primarily told you that because you have a knack for using them right in front of her. The last thing I need is for her to go to Lizzie's and start calling kids little fu..."

"Kairhyn Aubree," she interrupts again. "Don't make me wash that mouth out."

"Go to bed," I throw my pen at her.

I wake up the next morning with my face mushed in my book and my pen pressed into my cheek. I wince as peel the page away and then tuck my notes into the book and close it. I check the time and see that I've overslept again.

"Emma!" I call as I put on a pot of coffee. "Kairah!"

I pour cereal and milk into a bowl for Emma and put a bowl of oatmeal into the microwave for Kairah.

"Get her situated for me, I've got to get in the shower," I tell Kairah as she and Emma come into the kitchen.

I take a quick shower and brush my teeth while I pull my clothes out of the closet. I throw my shoes by the door and get dressed on my way over to the coffee pot.

"Come on, Ems, we've got to get dressed," I tell her as I take a large drink of my coffee. "Go pick out a shirt."

I clean up her cereal bowl and follow her into her room. She picked out her shirt and was in the process of putting it on, but she has her head in one of the arm holes.

"I'm stuck," she said holding her arms out.

"I see that," I try not laugh as I fix her shirt. "Come on, let's go potty."

She does her business, I help her put her pants on, and we grab her bag to take to Lizzie's. She insists that we bring her Princess Jasmine doll, so I shove it into the bag and rush to the front door.

"I'm coming!" Kairah calls from behind me so I don't shut the door on her.

I stumble a little as I slide on my shoes, and once the entourage has left the building, I lock the door behind us. Kairah and I go our separate ways as she heads to class and I head to Lizzie's. Luckily, we live close enough to the college that Kairah can walk to class and I can use the car to take Emma and go to work. When I get off work, I go home and Kairah takes the car so she can go to work. I've been saving money for almost a year, but I still don't have enough to get Kairah a decent car. Almost all of the money that she makes goes to helping pay the bills. I made her a deal when she moved in that if she stayed clean and helped pay the bills that I would save the money to get her a car. That way, I knew exactly where her money was going, except for the small amount of extra money that she had left over at the end of the month, but that wasn't enough to get her anything that would be up to her standards.

After I drop Emma off, I head to work. Considering the fact that I haven't finished my degree yet, my job pays fairly well. I'm a secretary for Edward Costano of Costano, Williams and Bender: Attorneys at Law. I got the job shortly after I graduated high school. I had taken a Criminal Justice elective class at the college when I was a senior, and one day we had a guest lecturer: Edward Costano. He had worked for several different firms and was pretty well known in the area. The last firm that he worked for was involved in a laundering scheme, so he resigned before they could drag his name through the mud. At the time, he was trying to find partners to start his own firm with. A few months later, I came across a job listing in the paper that was for a secretary for a beginning law firm. I showed up for an interview and Mr. Costano hired me on the spot. He said that he liked that I had very limited knowledge of the law, that way I couldn't be involved in some mastermind scheme. I was glad to get the job, but I certainly didn't miss his implication of my intelligence being limited.

After a very long day at work, I pick up Emma and head home, and Kairah leaves for work. I get Emma fed and we spend the evening putting together puzzles. At bedtime, I tell her her favorite story until she falls asleep, and then I sit in the kitchen and study until I fall asleep at the table.

The rest of the week follows almost this identical routine. The only deviations are on the weekends when there are no classes and I work nights at a local bar.

When Tuesday night rolls around, I'm more anxious than ever to go to Kairah's meeting.

"We're gonna invite him again," I tell her as we approach the entrance to the building. "And this time you're not going to bail."

"Why? You should like having alone time with him."

"I do, but.." I stop short as we see Isobel coming out of the elevator.

"What's going on?" I ask her.

"The meeting's been canceled this week."

"What? Why?" I ask desperately.

"John left a note on the door saying that he had some family emergency so he had to cancel tonight but he should be back next week."

"Have you seen anyone else?" I ask.

"No," she shakes her head.

"Ok, thanks," I force a smile.

Kairah and I walk back towards the main doors.

"No way," she says before I can give my suggestion. "I'm not sitying on a bench waiting for him."

"But..." I begin to protest like a fitful child.

"You just want to see if he's going to show," she says and forcefully pushes the door open.

We run right into Spencer.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she and I say at the same time.

"No worries," he smiles. "What's going on? Why are you two leaving?"

"John canceled the meeting tonight," I explain too quickly.

"Something about a family emergency or whatever," Kairah adds calmly.

"Oh, that's too bad," he frowns.

"Yeah," I frown back, feeling the awkwardness taking over my body.

"We were just gonna go over to the diner," Kairah elbows me subtly. "Wanna come with? I heard you didn't get the pleasure of eating cardboard last week."

"Yeah, I got called into work," he nods, unphased by the fact that she admitted I had been talking about him.

"So, would you like to?" I ask as I return her elbow jab.

"Would I like to...?"

"Come...to the diner."

"Yeah, sounds great," he smiles.


	3. Chapter 3

"The time has come," I say dramatically, folding my hands on the table. "And you are not allowed to leave."

Spencer smiles and puts his hands up in surrender.

"I'm practically glued to my seat."

"Good," I nod my head slightly.

"Without further adieu," Kairah returns to the table. "Let them eat pie."

She places three huge pieces of pie on the table in front of us. It's surprisingly busy tonight, so she ordered the pie from the counter instead of from Amanda.

"Okay, close your eyes," I tell Spencer.

"Why?" He grins.

"You must mentally prepare for an experience such as this."

He closes his eyes dramatically and acts like he's meditating.

"Okay. You are ready," I tell him after a few seconds.

He takes a bite of the pie and looks completely astonished.

"You weren't kidding," he smiles widely.

Why must his smile be so perfect?

"I never joke about pie," I can't help but smile back. "Except when I joke about her being my whore."

"You did what?" Kairah raises an eyebrow.

"Last week," I laugh. "Why do you think I came home with an entire pie? I told Amanda that I have needs and pie is my whore."

"Sometimes I think I was adopted," she sighs.

"Yeah that's definitely possible," I stare at her eyes that are the exact same shade of light-green as mine.

"You know what I mean," she rolls her eyes.

"We aren't that different," I shake my head. "You just have more of a bad attitude."

When I turn to look at Spencer, he looks very uncomfortable.

"We do this all the time," I brush it off. "Our parents used to say that our brains had to fight to be different, otherwise we'd just merge into one person."

"That's actually really rare in twins," Spencer begin rambling. "Being so much alike, that is. Only one-third of all twins are considered to be identical, and the term identical actually refers to the process rather than the siblings. Identical twins only happen when the egg divides for some reason and two embryos are formed. The actual term is monozygotic, mono for one and zygote for fertilized egg. Many assume that because you share the same DNA and you look almost exactly alike, that you share all of the same interests and even thought processes. Most twins, even identical ones, are very different in their interests and mindsets and many don't share that 'connection' that some refer to."

"Well, that is certainly true," I nod my head.

"We have some very different interests," Kairah adds.

"That's an understatement," I scoff.

"Kairhyn," she says bitterly.

"I don't mean that particular interest," I roll my eyes. "I thought we were beyond this already. I like cheerleading and ballet and pink, you like doing absolutely no physical activity and black."

"I do not like black," she raises a finger. "I love black."

"We can agree on pie, though," I say to Spencer. "And plenty of other things."

It's quiet for a minute while we eat our pie.

"So tell me about Emma," Spencer speaks up.

"Emma," I repeat, "Emma is a handful. She's three and thinks she rules the world."

"She can be very bossy," Kairah chimes in.

"She calls us Princess Jasmine," I smirk. "I guess there's a resemblance."

"Princess Jasmine?" He questions.

"You don't know who Princess Jasmine is?" Kairah's mouth falls open.

"I can't say that I do."

"Well, one day we'll have to educate you," I joke. "But, yeah, Ems is a great kid."

"Maybe you can meet her one day," Kairah throws out.

I glare at her and kick her under the table.

"That'd be great," he smiles.

And then his phone rings.

"Spencer," he answers. "Hey, Garcia. Yeah, I can be there in about 20 minutes. Okay, see you there."

The volume on his phone is pretty low, so it's impossible to hear the other side of the conversation. Still, I know he's being called back to work.

"Work?" I say before he can speak.

"Yeah," he grimaces.

"That's okay," I shrug. "It happens."

"So are you gonna be at next week's meeting?" Kairah asks.

"I hope so," he smiles. "But I might be working."

"I have an idea," she declares. "Kairhyn, why don't you give him your number so that he can shoot you a text if he's not gonna make it next week? Ya know, so we know how long Emma will be with Lizzie."

I shoot her a look that ought to send her directly to hell.

"Yeah, that's a great idea," Spencer says. "I'm sure it's hard for the sitter to not know when you're going to pick her up."

"Oh, yeah," I feign enthusiasm, "that actually is a good idea."

I pull a pen out of my purse and write my number down on a napkin with my name above it in plain lettering, which I'm sure Kairah will complain about later, and hand it to him. He pulls out his wallet and slips the napkin inside, then pulls out another $50.

"No," I say. "It's on us tonight."

He just smiles back at me as he lays the bill on the table and picks up his sweater.

"Goodnight, ladies. Hopefully I'll see you next week."

"Goodnight," Kairah and I say in unison.

"He said 'hopefully,'" Kairah says once the door has closed with him on the other side.

"He was being polite," I roll my eyes and stare at my plate as I feel my skin turning red.

"No, he was not," she laughs. "You should ask him out."

"I am not going to ask him out," my mouth falls open. "Inviting him here was bad enough."

"Well you can't wait for him to ask you," she laughs. "That boy is oblivious."

"Not as oblivious as you would think," Amanda chimes in.

"What do you mean?" I ask as the humiliation continues to consume my body.

"He left you his number, if you had been paying attention," she grins wickedly.

"No he did not," I cover my face.

"What!? Where?" Kairah says at the same time.

"The napkin that's sitting directly in front of you," she says looking at me. "And directly beside you," she says looking at Kairah.

We both look to the aforementioned spot and upon seeing the napkin with his number scrawled out in neat, legible numbers, I swear I will burst into flames at any second.

"Well, take it," Amanda throws it at me.

"What do I do with it?" I squeal.

"Use it," she laughs hysterically.

"What is wrong with you?" Kairah laughs as well. "You do not typically react like this to guys."

"It's been a long time," I cover my face again.

"It probably has for him, too," she suggests, "I mean, he agreed to come here multiple times, and it's not for the food. No offense, Amanda."

"Oh honey, you couldn't pay me to eat here," she slaps Kairah on the shoulder. "Another round of coffee or are you girls ready to call it a night?"

"As much as I could use another cup of coffee, I better go pick Emma up," I sigh.

"And you have to go message Spencer," Kairah mumbles.

"I am not going to message him," I shake my head furiously as we head to the door. "At least not tonight."

"You better not wait for him to message you first," she elbows me.

"Why not?" I protest.

"Because he wants you to message him first."

"How do you know? I gave him my number first."

"And the fact that he gave you his means he wants you to message him. He's probably not sure if you really like him or not, and by you messaging first, he'll take it as a positive indication."

"You're making that up," I scoff.

"You'll never know if I'm making it up or not if you don't mestage him."

I try to ignore her the rest of the way to Lizzie's house.

"Sorry I'm late," I tell her when she comes to the door.

"No problem," she smiles. "We had tons of fun. So much, in fact, that it put her to sleep."

"Oh, good," I smile as she let's me inside.

"Hewwo Ai-ai," Lizzie's daughter Gabrielle greets me.

"Hello, Ellie," I give her the high-five that she's waiting for.

Gabrielle is 4 and is on the lower-end of the Autism spectrum; she has mild Pervasive Developmental Disorder.

"I pay spawkle with M-ma!" She yells.

"Shh, Ellie," Lizzie tells her. "You'll wake Brandon."

I tiptoe into the room where Brandon, Lizzie's two year old son, and Emma are sleeping. I pick her up carefully, thank Lizzie, and carry her to the car. Thankfully, I manage to put her in her car seat without waking her. Kairah and I stay silent on the way home; Emma is a fairly light sleeper, and talking almost always wakes her up. When we get home, I tuck her into bed and then head to the kitchen to make myself some coffee.

"Did you do it yet?" Kairah asks from the couch.

"And by 'it' you mean what?" I raise an eyebrow as I pour myself a cup.

"Message Spencer," she smiles wickedly.

"No, I have not," I glare. "And I'm not going to."

I sit down at the table and open my textbook. I still have a few pages to read before the test on this week's chapter.

"Don't pretend to read," she gets up and sits at the table with me.

"Go to bed, Kairah," I roll my eyes.

"You're really not going to message him?" She sighs.

"No," I huff. "I'm not going to message him."

"Fine," she grumbles as she gets up from the table. "I think you'll regret it, though."

I roll my eyes again to make sure she gets the point. I wait until I hear her door close and I slowly pull out my phone. I wait a couple extra minutes just to be safe, and then I pull out the napkin that has Spencer's number on it. I take a deep breath, type in my passcode, and open my messages. I tap compose, take another deep breath, and enter the ten digit number slowly, double checking that I didn't enter any of the numbers incorrectly - and then I triple check. After the fourth time of comparing the numbers, I decide that it's safe. I begin typing.

 _Hey, Spencer. I just wanted to thank you again for dinner tonight and last Tuesday :)_

I decide to save his number in my contacts, so I type in his name and add a smiley face emoji. I stare at my phone for a few minutes, but he doesn't respond. After making sure yet again that the number is correct, I chalk it up to him being busy and finish the last couple pages of the chapter. I rinse my now empty mug out and load it into the dishwasher, along with all of the other dishes that are piled up in the sink. I squirt some detergent into the reservoir and turn it on. I allow myself five extra minutes in the shower, and once my time is up I get dressed and brush my teeth.

I peek into Emma's room just to make sure everything is okay and then I go into my room and get in bed. I'm just getting settled beneath the sheets when I hear my phone tweet.

 _Spencer: Kairhyn?_

 _Yeeah, sorry, it's me lol_

 _Spencer: No worries, the number you gave me just doesn't match the one on the screen._

 _Oh, sorry...I must have switched a couple of the numbers around._

I'm really glad he can't see me right now, because I know my face is bright red. I usually do pretty well when writing down sequences of numbers that I'm familiar with or have memorized, but sometimes I still mix them up. Occasionally I can just blame transposition, but when the numbers aren't directly beside each other, I have no excuse.

 _Spencer: Transposition is actually very common with people who work with a lot of numbers or who type at fast speeds._

At least I can blame transposition this time.

 _lol yeah, i'm a secretary so trapnsition happens to me all the time._

 _Spencer: Where do you work?_

 _Costano, Williams, and Bender._

 _Spencer: Wow, they're pretty popular in the area._

 _what, no stastitic on how many cases they've won or how many clients they've represented?_

 _Spencer: Would you like one?_

 _lay it on me._

 _Spencer: Costano represents 85.435% of all the firm's clients and has won 96.738% of all the cases that he's presented in court._

 _that's incredible._

 _Spencer: It is pretty impressive. That's one of the highest success rates in the area._

 _i meant that you have all that memorized._

 _Spencer: I read an article about him in the newspaper._

 _Spencer: Why are you up so late?_

 _i've been studying, but i didn't realize how late it is._

 _why are you up so late?_

 _Spencer: I'm at work. A coworker went for coffee so I'm waiting for her to get back._

Her? A female is bringing him coffee? That shouldn't bother me. We're just friends. He can have other female friends. Female friends that bring him coffee. No, it doesn't bother me. Yes, yes it does.

 _Spencer: She just got back. Unfortunately, I have to get back to work._

 _yeah, i should probably go to bed since i have to work in the morning._

 _Spencer: Goodnight :)_

 _goodnight :)_

I set my phone down on the nightstand and set my alarm clock, then slide down into the sheets. The conversation plays over and over in my head, and even though it was painfully polite, I can't help but smile.

I wake up the next morning before my alarm goes off. My head is pounding and I can already tell I'm going to need a copious amount of coffee to make it through the day. And probably some aspirin. As much as I want to continue laying in bed, I know that will just make it worse, so I get up and head to the kitchen. I start a pot of coffee and get out a bowl and the cereal box. I set the bowl down on the table so that when I get Emma up, all I have to do is pour the milk.

I take a quick shower while I'm waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. I throw my shoes by the door and finish dressing while I walk into Emma's room to wake her up. Once she's up, I open Kairah's door and yell for her to get up. Emma eats while I do my makeup and then I get her dressed and pack her toys. This time it's Kairah that's running late, but we make it out the door in just enough time that I can drop Emma off and still make it to work without being late.

"Good morning, Kairhyn," Mr. Costano greets me when I step off the elevator.

"Good morning," I nod as I walk to my desk. "You're here early."

"That's because I wanted to run something by you," he says leaning on the counter top in front of my desk.

"Yes?"

"My brother is coming into town tomorrow," he hesitates. "He's not very familiar with the area."

"That's nice," I feign a smile.

Not this again.

"I was wondering if you could maybe give him a little tour when you get off tomorrow."

Yep. This again.

"That is a really great idea, Mr. Costano, but I'm not going to be able to do that," I try to give him a convincing smile. "I have to pick Emma up at a certain time and I have a lot of studying to do."

"Oh, yeah, of course," he nods. "Thanks anyway."

"No problem," I mumble as he walks into his office.

Ever since I started working here, his brother Anthony has been trying to get to go on a date with him. He lives in Maryland but he comes here at least every two months. Everytime, Mr. Costano asks me to be his tour guide as if he's never been here before. It's not that he's not an attractive guy, but he's also desperate. He calls me ever so often and leaves me really long voicemails, he tries to send me instant messages through my old screen name; I only know that because I still use the email address and I had my IM's converted into emails. Usually when he's in town, he has flowers sent either to the office or sometimes to my home. If he wasn't actually a really nice guy, I would probably have him arrested.

The day passes by very slowly, and I don't hear anything else from Spencer. Maybe I shouldn't have messaged him. Maybe the politeness was too much for him and it made him not interested anymore. Or maybe he has a date planned with his coffee friend. His ooh-la-latte girl. No. This is ridiculous. I've even given her a nickname now and I don't even know her. She could really just be a coworker and nothing more.

I barely notice when Mr. Costano leaves and I accidentally stay an extra 15 minutes due to being stuck in my own thoughts. I quickly grab my purse and run to the elevator. I'm late to pick Emma up and Lizzie has plans tonight.

Just as I walk in the door and Emma pushes past me to get to her room, I hear my phone tweet. I don't have time to check it, so I just throw my purse down and collapse on the couch beside Kairah.

"Long day?" She asks.

"Very," I sigh. "Anthony is coming to town."

"Oh no," she laughs.

"Are you watching the news?" I ask, looking at the TV.

"I have to find an 'interesting' story to talk about in class," she rolls her eyes. "It seems really pointless to me."

"In National News," the woman on the local news is saying. "8 year old Samantha Billings was abducted from her home in Wichita last night. Her parents Troy and Karen Billings reported her missing after going into her bedroom to wake her up for school. The window in her bedroom was left open. Federal authorities have been called in to assist the Wichita police in finding Samantha. They now believe her disappearance is linked with the abductions of at least six other children in neighboring states."

"Oh my God, that's horrible," Kairah shakes her head.

"We will now hear from the FBI's Special Agent Hotchner," the reporter says.

The man is standing in front of the girl's house. Her parents are slightly behind him. He begins speaking, but I don't hear a word that he's saying. At the corner of the screen, I see a man with curly hair who is wearing a blue shirt with a Navy sweater over it. I can only see him from behind, but I just know.

"Kairah, is that Spencer?" I point to the corner of the screen.

As we're both staring, the man that was speaking steps away from the reporters and guides the girl's parents into their house.

"Sir, sir!" The reporters begin to flock to the curly headed man that is no longer in the corner of the screen, but now in the dead center. "Agent! What is being to done to locate these missing children?"

He turns his head just enough for the cameras to capture his profile. It can't be.

"No comment," he says and joins a very attractive blonde woman who is walking into the house.

"Oh my God," Kairah's mouth falls open. "No way."

"Yeah," I manage to utter, "oh my God."


	4. Chapter 4

I lie in bed staring at the ceiling. I know that if I look at the clock it's going to read some God-awful time like 4am. No matter how hard I try, I can't sleep. I hate wasting money on coffee from shops, but I'm definitely going to need something stronger than what I have here to make it through the day. Definitely not a latte, though. Stupid ooh-la-latte girl. And here I go again. Judging and insulting some woman that I've never met just because she brought Spencer some coffee.

I suddenly remember the text that I never read earlier. It's probably Mr. Costano trying, once again, to get me to give Anthony a "tour." I roll over and grab my phone, and just like I suspected, it's 4:15 am. I grunt and type in my passcode. My phone tweets again while I'm holding it and I almost drop it on my face. I do that far too often. I go to my messages and freeze momentarily. I take a deep breath and select his name, but I only allow myself to read one at a time.

《Spencer: Sorry I had to go earlier. My work schedule can be a little crazy sometimes.》

Did he just apologize for not being able to talk to me earlier?

《Spencer: I just got off work and I'm sure you're asleep, but I just wanted to say goodnight.》

Oh my God, he's so cute.

《i'm not asleep :)》

《Spencer: It's 4 o'clock in the morning. Why are you up so late?》

《couldn't sleep.》

《Spencer: That is a pretty common problem, actually. You should try taking some melatonin.》

《i'll have to look into that.》

《any suggestions in the meantime?》

《Spencer: There's always counting sheep.》

《i think counting the amount of hours you spend at work would work, too.》

《Spencer: Sometimes it's not so bad.》

《Spencer: I do miss a lot of meetings, though.》

《exactly. and a lot of nights eating terrible food but great pie.》

《Spencer: And a lot of nights not seeing you.》

I freeze. And then I read it over and over. Probably 50 times. And then something inside me takes over and I type back something that I'm almost positive will make me never be able to look him in the eye again.

《and a lot of nights of me not seeing you, either.》

《Spencer: Unless something comes up, I should be there next week.》

《you only come for the pie.》

《Spencer: Guilty.》

It suddenly occurs to me that if he's off work, that must mean they solved the case. I dig for the remote and turn the TV on.

"It really is amazing," the news anchors are saying. "And definitely a blessing that 2 of the 7 missing children were found alive and well. Unfortunately, 2 of the bodies were found in trash bags on the premises, and the other 3 bodies were the ones found by investigators partially buried in various parks. Agent Jareau of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit provided a statement on behalf of the Bureau and the family of the victims."

"Today, we take comfort in knowing that these families have closure and that justice will be served. Thank you," Agent Jareau is saying in the tiny part of the clip that the news station aired.

Agent Jareau is the pretty blonde that I saw on the news earlier. I'll bet she's the ooh-la-latte girl. Before I can remember that I didn't respond to Spencer's last message, I turn the TV off and fall asleep.

I walk into the firm the next morning and barely make it to my seat when I hear my name being called.

"You're late," Mr. Costanzo says when I make it to the doorway of his office.

"I know," I answer. "Didn't get much sleep last night."

"Well, I'll be damned," I hear from behind me.

I cringe.

"Hello, Anthony."

"It's been awhile," he grins, leaning against the doorframe.

"2 months is hardly awhile," I roll my eyes as I push past him to get to my desk.

"Seems more like 2 years."

"No, not really," I respond as I grab my purse.

"Where you goin?" He asks, following me to the elevator.

"I'm going to get coffee," I yell to Mr. Costano.

"Let me come with you," Anthony says.

"It's a free country," I sigh, "you can go anywhere you want to. That's one of the perks."

I step into the elevator and press myself into the corner. He stands near the doors, but I'm still the first one out of the elevator. I walk past the nearest coffee shop with him trailing behind me. I walk a little faster, trying to put more distance between us as I pass yet another coffee shop. I finally make it to the shop I had in mind, but as I reach to open the door, a hand beats me to it. I swear there was more distance than that between us. What did he do, run to catch up?

"Thanks," I mumble as I step inside.

The line is longer than I'd like it to be, but I join the back of it and try to focus on anything other than the man standing abnormally close to me.

"Nice place," he comments. "Small, quiet."

"I do like it quiet," I remark.

"You don't seem to be that quiet," he says in such a low tone that if he wasn't nearly touching me, I never would have heard him.

"And that means what?"

I can feel the scowl that's threatening to overtake my face as I turn around.

That scowl quickly turns into astonishment.

"Kairhyn?" the person behind Anthony says.

"Spencer," I take a deep breath. "Hi."

"Hi," he smiles.

"Anthony Costano," Anthony interrupts and extends his hand.

"Dr. Spencer Reid," he replies and very lightly shakes Anthony's hand.

He is visibly uncomfortable.

"Do you have your own practice?" Anthony asks.

"Spencer isn't that kind of doctor," I cut in. "He has three PHD's."

"Impressive," Anthony says in a condescending tone.

"Anthony is my boss's brother. He's from Maryland," I say to Spencer.

I glance over my shoulder and see that I'm next in line.

"He's not very familiar with the area," I add and then quickly step up to the counter.

As I order my extremely strong drink, I can hear Spencer giving Anthony statistic after statistic, just as I'd hoped he would. When I finish ordering, I step back over to the guys.

"Anthony, you're next in line," I gesture to the annoyed-looking employee at the counter.

"Oh, right," he nods and goes to order.

"He's actually more familiar with the area than you think," Spencer comments.

"Oh, yeah," I pause to take a drink, "I know. I just needed to have him preoccupied so I didn't have to listen to him anymore."

"You don't like him?" Spencer questions.

"He's nice," I nod, "but also annoying. My boss keeps trying to force me to go out with him. I should thank you."

"For what?" He looks perplexed.

"For saving me," I laugh.

We step up to the counter and Spencer orders a bunch of different coffees, no doubt for his colleagues, off the top of his head. Anthony is down at the bar waiting for his drink. I see one of the workers hand it to him and he hesitates before coming back over to us.

"I'll see you back at the office, Anthony," I say as soon as he's within earshot. "I'm just gonna wait with Spencer and then I'll head back."

"Yeah," he clears his throat, "okay."

The hidden look of defeat almost makes me feel bad. It's not my fault, though, that neither he nor his brother will give up. I wait for him to walk outside before I breathe a sigh of relief.

"You, uh," Spencer clears his throat. "You look very nice today."

"Thank you," I smile widely at him.

"What are you doing all the way overy here?" he asks. "There are 5 coffee shops within 4 square miles of your office."

"I was trying to get away from him," I roll my eyes. "Is this the coffee shop that you always come to?"

"If I'm not in a different state, yes," he says simply.

"Why do you have to travel so much?" I boldly ask without actually meaning for the words to come out of my mouth.

"It's really unavoidable," he answers literally.

I stand there next to him quiet for a few minutes. Just as I'm about to come up with a new subject, his order is ready and it's time for us to both head back to work.

"So I guess I'll see you later," I say as we head out the door and are about to part ways.

"Next week," he smiles and nods, even though we both know that's probably not the truth.

I make my way back to the office slowly. I'm in absolutely no hurry to get back so that Anthony can be at the door waiting for me like a puppy that was left outside in the rain.

"Kairhyn," Anthony stops me outside the building when I finally make it there. "Can I speak with you for a moment?"

"Sure," I groan internally.

"I really don't appreciate the way I've been treated today."

I almost choke on my coffee.

"I feel like you've just been leading me on. Acting like you're interested one minute and not the next," he folds his arms. "I don't like being toyed with."

"Well," I say trying to regain my composure after dying of laughter on the inside. "I can assure you, I am not toying with you. I have done everything in my power to get the point across to you. I am not interested. I never have been. I never will be. I'm not trying to be harsh, but the fact that you feel it's okay to confront me outside of my office, claiming that I'm leading you on, quite frankly, it pisses me off. So, if you don't mind, I am going to go back to work and you need to go wherever it is that you need to go so you can come back to planet Earth and not act like a huge douchebag."

I turn away and walk inside, throwing my coffee away on the way to my desk - suddenly it doesn't taste very good. I can't believe that jerk. Did he seriously accuse me of leading him on? Maybe I should accuse him of stalking me. That accusation would actually be accurate.


End file.
